


The Shadow Man

by FannyT



Series: The Hunger Games Fusion Verse [4]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Merlin (TV)
Genre: 69th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannyT/pseuds/FannyT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Cenred would be affably unintelligent, shrugging his way through the Games and hoping for someone else to take out Morgause. If that happened, he’d then be able to step up as Two's main tribute—but until then, he would be the shadow. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>Companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1051581/chapters/2104178">Burn So Bright</a>: the 69th Hunger Games as experienced by District Two's Cenred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadow Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is written as a companion piece to [Burn So Bright](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1051581/chapters/2104178) and should not be read before that one (since it spoils large parts of that plot...). 
> 
> Please note the warnings—this fic contains some graphic violence.

When it became clear that Morgause was going to be chosen as the female tribute in his year, Cenred knew that he'd be the one to suit his performance after hers. She was the stronger candidate by far; his role in the Hunger Games would be tailored to complement hers, not the other way around. 

Depending on the rest of the alliance, there were two ways he could go. He might team up with Morgause as her second-in-command in a strong leading duo, or he could stay in the background and let Morgause do all the heavy lifting. And as soon they saw the broadcast of the other Reapings and realised that both tributes from One might be leader figures just as strong as Morgause, his mentor Brutus had decided on the second option. Cenred would be affably unintelligent, shrugging his way through the Games and hoping for someone else to take out Morgause. If that happened, he’d then be able to step up as Two's main tribute—but until then, he would be the shadow. 

There was actually a lot to recommend that position. The shadow was usually overlooked. This way, he might have an actual shot at winning the Games. 

(If it had come down to him and Morgause in the end, he wouldn't have stood a chance.)

Once it was decided that he would spend the Games mainly on the sidelines, Cenred's life became rather easy. For him, the entire time in the Capitol simply meant waiting. There was no reason for him to distinguish himself in any way—indeed, in order for Morgause to shine all the brighter, he shouldn't even try—and all he had to do was keep up the image of standard District Two grunt in every way. 

"Remember," Brutus told him, the night before their entry into the Arena. "Shadow Morgause. She will rag on you, treat you like the servant, push you down at every opportunity. Take it. If you're both attacked together, help her. But the moment she's out of the picture, you don't have to worry about playing the part any longer. Just play to win, however you want. We'll find out a way to spin that afterwards—you wanted to step up for the district, you held a torch for her and wanted to be strong for her... Doesn't matter. We'll tailor it to fit, depending on how the Games go. Just get out alive."

Cenred nodded. He knew his chances had been rising ever since the One reaping. The Ones were strong this year, and Arthur and Morgause were already playing up the rivalry. With all probability, there would be a showdown between the two of them at some point, and if Arthur won that, Cenred would be free. In any case, Morgause was the one with the target painted on her back for these Games. 

It could be him. It would be him. If he kept his head down, stayed at Morgause's back as long as he could, and avoided drawing attention to himself as anything other than a brawn-over-brains Two tribute, he could be the one stepping away as victor. 

The other tributes would never see him coming.

* * *

Morgause was the one to throw a spanner in the works. There was something between her and Morgana—a rapport Cenred hadn't been counting on. In the Capitol, they had seemed to be setting up to be the kind of Arena friends who would gladly stab each other in the back as soon as the time was right, but after Morgana's near escape at the geysers, the two of them became closer and closer to the point where Cenred would no longer be surprised if either were to take a knife for the other. It threw Cenred's plans for the Games completely out of kilter.

He hadn't counted on Morgause's rivalry with Arthur being as strong as it was, either. Combined with her growing attachment to Morgana, it meant that Cenred was on day five—long before he'd been planning—forced to participate in an attack on Arthur's life. 

Arthur's life was Cenred's life. If Arthur was taken out of the picture so soon, it meant that Morgause was undisputed for the top contender in the Games and could pick the other tributes off at her leisure. And that meant that Cenred's safety net was completely gone. 

Seeing the lack of Arthur's face in the sky the night of the attack and realising that he had survived meant that Cenred could heave a deep sigh of relief—in his mind, of course, because Mordred was an observant little shit who would have been on him about its meaning before he could blink. 

Oh, yes. Mordred. The _other_ problem. 

So far, Mordred was the one who was making Cenred most unsettled of all (which, considering his group also consisted of Morgana and Morgause, was impressive). The boy hadn't made too much noise as of yet, apart from coldly making away with his own district partner on the very first day, but there was something about the way he simply _stared_ that made Cenred extremely wary. Also, there was what had happened when the group had attacked Arthur. 

The thing about Arthur was that he was an astounding warrior. There had been few who could match Morgause back in the training program in Two, but Cenred thought that Arthur might be one who could. He was a good fighter, strong and instinctive, and he was clever enough to know danger long before it was evident. Even before Morgause and Morgana had come up with the idea to get rid of him, he'd been aware that there had been something wrong. Cenred had early on known that none of them could ever sneak up on him. 

And, still. The four of them—Cenred, Morgana, Morgause and Morded—had been facing off against Arthur. Cenred had been thinking that the only option was to rush all at once and hope Arthur only managed to inflict flesh wounds on them before they could overpower him. (For himself, he'd been planning to take a backseat role and let the other risk the aforementioned flesh wounds. It was in keeping with his chosen character for the Games, after all.) And then Mordred had started creeping around, to get behind Arthur. 

There was no way Arthur wouldn't have seen that. He practically had eyes in the back of his head. And yet there he had been, just staring straight in front of him at the remaining three members of the group, as if he couldn't even see Mordred heading for him. 

It made Cenred uneasy just to think about it. Since then, Mordred was highest on his list of people to look out for, surpassing even Morgause—because she, at least, would stab you from the front. Mordred had no such scruples.

* * *

After they had got rid of Arthur, Cenred started watching the others closely. Morgause and Morgana now seemed more or less joined at the hip, with Mordred as a small and creepy tail. Cenred would often see all three of them whisper together closely. 

There was really only one weapon Cenred had now, and he made the most of it, playing up his lazy stupidity as much as he dared. He and Morgause hadn't been too close in the training centre back in Two, so for all he knew, she could be buying into this persona. Anyway, as long as he showed himself to not be a threat, he could still have a chance. Still, he started keeping weapons near to hand at all times, even at meals. 

The second morning after Arthur had gone over the waterfall, he and Morgause almost came to blows. Food had been going missing, and it was only after Cenred pointed out that the sesame bars were among the filched foodstuffs—he was allergic—that she stopped menacing him. There was no mention of it being either Morgana or Mordred who had been stealing, he noted sourly. 

“There were signs that someone had been here at this site before us,” Mordred said quietly. “Someone very wood crafty.”

Morgause and Morgana looked at each other, and then they smiled. Cenred turned his face away and rolled his eyes. They thought their _unspoken understanding_ shtick was so fucking cute.

That evening, Cenred stood as guard, even more lazily than usual. He was throwing a knife into the air and catching it again, his whole attention focused on the weapon. Morgana and Morgause had some time previously announced their intention to go out hunting, and Mordred was curled up by the fire, asleep. 

There was a tiny noise behind Cenred. He ignored it. 

He stood staring in the opposite direction, until he heard Mordred's muffled shout and Morgana ran out from her hiding place. Then he turned, to see Mordred grappling with the little girl from District Nine, the one who had given such a weepy, pathetic performance during the training week. 

She wasn't pathetic now. She was kicking and squirming, trying to reach into her hair for something, but Mordred was holding on to both her wrists with all the strength he could muster. It wasn't enough, however. She managed to get a hand free, reached into her hair and came up with a dart. 

“Let go of him!” Morgana screamed, and loosed a knife at the girl. In her haste she timed the throw terribly and it spun so that the handle headed for the girl, not the blade. It still did its work, though, hitting her in the temple and making her let go of Mordred. 

She shrank back, holding one hand to her head, and then spun and ran. 

“Cenred!” Morgana snapped. “Your knife!”

Cenred started, realising that he might have been enjoying seeing Mordred beaten up so much that he had lost his focus. Morgana's shout recalled him, and he threw his knife with all his might after the fleeing Girl Nine. It missed her by inches. 

The girl reached the edge of the plateau and _jumped_. Morgana and Cenred ran up, only to see that she had caught hold of a ledge some way down and was now scrambling down at a neck-breaking speed. Morgana threw two knives after her that she managed to dodge, and then one that hit her leg. Girl Nine screamed and dropped several feet, managing at the last to get hold of the cliff face again. 

“Let her run,” Cenred said quietly as Morgana reached for a new throwing knife. “She's out of proper range now. Morgause is hidden below; she'll get her. Let's have dinner ready for when she comes back.”

Morgana agreed reluctantly. They busied themselves by the fire, all the while listening for a cannon shot that just never came. 

When Morgause finally came back, it was with bloody hands and a bruised face, but also with a murderous expression. She had not managed to kill the thieving Girl Nine, because she had been busy with two cat-like muttations that had attacked her suddenly. She had managed to put her sword through the throat of one and scare the other away, but by then, Girl Nine had been far away. 

“She won't be coming here again, though,” Morgana said soothingly. Morgause just scowled. 

“These Games are becoming annoying,” she muttered under her breath.

* * *

That night, the mutts that Morgause had battled came back for them. Morgana was on guard, and only just managed to shout the rest of them awake before they were run over by a whole pack of the creatures. They were large as retriever dogs, with shining black fur and red eyes. One caught Cenred across the arm with its long tail when he scrambled to his feet—it tore his skin open as it came away, and he realised that the fur on their tails hid some kind of barbs. 

The creatures were bloodthirsty, like all mutts, and they kept coming no matter how many of them were killed. Mordred and Morgause were battling the creatures back to back, she wielding her sword expertly and he slashing wildly with his small knife. It was lucky for the boy, Cenred thought as he sliced open a mutt from head to tail with his saw-tooted blade, that the mutts didn't seem to find him as interesting. 

Morgana had shot five through the throat before she had run out of arrows, and was now wielding her bow like a staff, bowling mutts aside with every swipe. 

“Back towards the cliff!” she shouted. “I think I can make a path.”

Cenred snatched up a brand from the fire and fought his way over to her, sweeping the flaming torch from side to side. The creatures hissed and gave way. 

Mordred ran up to them, but Morgause hesitated, making a movement towards their backpacks of provisions. Immediately three mutts jumped her. She sliced the head off one and kicked the other violently. The third, who'd had time to fasten its jaws around her arm, fell back with Cenred's knife stuck in its forehead. Morgana shook herself free and ran.

The pack followed them all the way up the hillside, and only fell back when they were far down the other side of the ridge. Cenred, who’d been in the rear, holding back the animals with his torch, then moved forward to join Morgana in the lead, lighting their way. Mordred and Morgause followed some steps behind, he supporting her as she hobbled along painfully. Still, despite all their hurts and bruises, Cenred could hear the mutts fading into the distance and knew that they must have given up the chase for good. 

He just had time to think that they were safe before the ground fell away from under him.

* * *

Cenred woke painfully, biting back a groan. Everything hurt. He fumbled at his side, then remembered that he'd thrown his knife at one of the mutts to save Morgause. He'd had two other knives in his pack, but that was back at the camp.

He blinked his eyes open and drew a deep breath, then clenched his jaw and forced himself to sit upright, looking around for the others. There was no one there. He was lying at the bottom of a hillside, half buried in stone and sand, and there was no sign of any other living thing. 

"Well, fuck," Cenred said. 

He stood up and brushed himself off as well as he could. His back was agonising, but as far as he could tell he only seemed bruised, and both arms and legs were functioning normally. So now there was the small problem of him being entirely alone in an unknown part of this clusterfuck of an Arena, without a weapon and with a small packet of dried meat in his pocket the only food he had or was likely to receive. There was no way to hunt without a weapon, and judging by the landscape around him, in this part of the Arena there was nothing to gather. 

So it would have to be sponsors, then. Fucking great. 

He was just planning to make a show out of checking for wounds as an excuse for taking his clothes off, when he looked up suddenly to see Morgana watching him from a ridge some little way above him. 

"You're awake," she said flatly, then added, "Finally."

"You were expecting me not to be?" Cenred asked. 

"When I left to look for Morgause and Mordred you were out cold," she said, shrugging, then headed down the slope towards him. 

"So you left?" he asked, trying to sound amused, rather than pathetic. He wasn't entirely sure he succeeded. 

Morgana shrugged again. "Did you think I would carry you?" she said sardonically. "I didn't find the others. Either they ended up somewhere a lot further off when that path fell away under us, or they—well." She clenched her jaws together tightly, turning away from him. 

"We'll know tonight," Cenred said. She snorted dismissively. 

"Yeah, sure. I wouldn't have thought of that. Thanks for pointing it out. Do you have any food at all?"

He looked at her, considering. Still, it might not be the smartest thing to break up this alliance right now; not when he was entirely without weapons or security. For now, he should stick close to her and wait for his chance, even if that meant sharing what little he had in the way of supplies. 

"Very little," he said. "But it'll keep us on our feet. Weapons?" 

"Nothing," she said with a wince. "I lost all I had on me in the fall."

Cenred shrugged. "Well, then I guess we'd better start with eating what I have and then making it back to where we can get ourselves some new supplies."

They took their direction from the sun and headed back the way they must have fallen. They had run from the greener part of the Arena towards the more sterile one when they fled the mutts, and if they wanted to satisfy their most urgent need—that of water—it seemed the best way to go about it. Cenred's scanty ration of food hadn't even begun to still their hunger, and it hadn't exactly helped with the thirst, either. And the very worst of it was being without weapons. Cenred felt naked and exposed, and the longer they walked, the more his neck started to itch with the fear that someone was just behind him, waiting to strike. 

What with the hunger and thirst, Cenred didn't trust his internal clock enough to make any accurate assumptions, but he thought they must have been walking for a couple of hours at least when he suddenly heard the sound of water. Relief bubbling through him, he turned to Morgana, who was coming up behind him. 

"I think I hear water up ahead," he said, grinning at her. She looked up, and he saw her eyes begin to widen. 

Just as he realised that her expression meant alarm rather than joy, something struck the back of his head and everything went dark.

* * *

Cenred came to with his head pounding. He could hear panting and scuffling beside him, but no one was attacking him. Better play it cool for the moment, then. 

Without opening his eyes, he did an internal audit and found that again, he seemed to have escaped with his life and his body intact. His elbow hurt, probably from falling against something when he was knocked out, and his head was aching incredibly, but whoever had attacked him had been kind enough not to bother him further once he was neutralised. 

Right, then. Time to see what was going on. 

He opened his eyes a fraction, just enough to see without being spotted as awake, and saw Morgana grappling with the boy he recognised as being from District Ten. He was a strong hand-to-hand fighter, Cenred remembered. 

Neither of the two seemed to have realised that he was awake, and Cenred quickly decided that it might be just as well for him to let that state continue. If Morgana killed Boy Ten, fine. No need for Cenred to risk his own hide. And if Boy Ten should manage to kill her, then Cenred had the element of surprise on his side for an attack of his own. 

Some would call it cowardice, but that was only because people couldn't appreciate pragmatism. Besides, as long as the cameras didn't catch him, no one would even care once he got out alive. 

Neither Morgana nor Boy Ten had a weapon, he saw. They were straining against one another, she trying to get her arm behind his neck for a breaking hold and he reaching for her throat. Morgana's right arm was bleeding heavily from some kind of gash, and her hand, slippery with blood, was losing its grip on Boy Ten's arm. As Cenred watched, Boy Ten managed to wrench her arm out and away, and Morgana screamed suddenly. By the way her uniform sagged over her shoulder, Cenred guessed that the arm had been wrenched out of its socket. 

Boy Ten took advantage of her pain and distraction and kicked her legs out from under her and then, as she fell, got both hands around her throat and knelt above her, squeezing tight. Morgana kicked and gasped, scrabbling at his hands. 

Cenred felt surprised, and almost a little disappointed. He'd really thought she'd make it. He readied himself, preparing to spring as soon as the cannon signalled her death and Boy Ten was completely distracted by his victory. 

Then, as he was slowly curling his legs, searching for support with his toes, he saw Morgana's hand move away from Boy Ten's arm and creep back onto her own shoulder. Her fingers fumbled at the silver dragon brooch pinned to her shirt, then tore it free. With a sudden, explosive moment, she jabbed the brooch up needle first, straight into Boy Ten's eye. 

It was a rather long needle. 

She kept pushing, levering herself up after it and digging the nails of her other hand into his face, as he screamed and fell backwards and then, finally, went silent. As the cannon fired for him, she fell back again, panting breaths that sounded more like sobs than anything else. 

_Holy shit_ , Cenred thought faintly. Morgana was fucking _terrifying_. 

He closed his eyes again, then stirred and groaned. 

"What happened?" he said, slurring his words for an appropriate amount of disorientation. He opened his eyes and turned his head first the wrong way, then back towards Morgana. He thought his feigned dazed state wouldn't allow for quick reactions, so he let himself stare at her with his mouth open before mumbling, "Morgana, what on earth—"

She sat up, pushing her shoulder back in with a wet whimper that was quickly cut off. Her face was grimy with dust, blood and tears, and from the look of her eye, Boy Ten had managed to get at least one good punch in, but once she had taken a few more deep breaths, she was once more the cool Morgana he'd come to know in the Arena. 

"Boy Ten," she said, and Cenred mentally applauded the way she managed to keep her voice steady. "He hit you with a rock. You were lucky. He had a knife as well, but I think he wanted you out of the way completely before using it on me, instead of having to deal with two opponents at once. His mistake."

"You killed him," Cenred said, because that was the kind of stupid remark one was expected to make when waking from a heavy blow to head, he thought. Then he focused on her injuries. "But your arm—" 

"He got a few slashes in before I disarmed him," Morgana said, still with admirable calm. "I kicked the knife away somewhere over there. Maybe you could go and look for it? If you're feeling up to it, that is. He gave you a heavy blow."

Oh, she was dangerous, Cenred thought. She was sitting there after escaping death so narrowly he wasn't entirely sure it had even happened, and she was expressing concern for his wellbeing. She was painting him as a horrible weakling, and unless he did something to change that fast, not all the luck in the world could save him from this Arena. 

No one would sponsor a weak tribute.

"I'm fine," he said, rising quickly to his feet and then swaying for a moment, as though still disoriented. He couldn't appear to be _too_ recovered, after all. Putting a brave face on a bad injury, that was the way to go about it. "I'm fine. Over there?"

"Right," Morgana said. "And we should move; the hovercraft will be coming to pick him up."

When Cenred returned with the knife, she was upright, with a pack over her uninjured shoulder and two water bottles in her hand. 

"He had supplies," she said. "Let's wait to go through them until we get further away, though." She glanced pointedly at the knife, and after a moment's hesitation, he handed it to her. She gave him one of the water bottles in return. 

The bottle was entirely full. Cenred unscrewed the lid almost reverentially, taking several deep gulps. He had never tasted anything so good in his life before. 

"Let me take the pack," he said then, closing the bottle again and hanging it at his side. "You're injured."

"Better if you're unburdened, to lead the way and scout ahead for us," she retorted, and he shrugged. Not like it mattered to him, after all. 

They struggled on in silence for a while. Behind them, Cenred heard the rush of wind as a hovercraft entered and then left again, carrying Boy Ten's corpse back to the Capitol. As the made it around a corner and then over another ridge, they came upon the water that Cenred had heard before. It was a tiny trickle of a stream running down the side of a rocky hill, but it was water. 

"Thank heaven," Cenred said, turning to lend Morgana a hand down the last steep. "Let's have a rest here, and then we tend to that arm."

Boy Ten must have just filled up his bottles here when he met them. The stream was cold and clear, and tasted just as well as the water in the bottles. 

"Medical supplies," Morgana said as she examined Boy Ten's pack. "Can you help me?"

She could make even a plea for help sound proud and dignified, Cenred thought. Gods, but it was going to be difficult for him to maintain a position as a contender next to her. It might even have been better to be stuck with Morgause, since her berating condescendence was actually a part of his own persona. But Morgana—she was so cool, so thoroughly self-efficient, that Cenred seemed entirely negligible next to her. 

The only solution, really, was to kill Morgana as soon as possible.

* * *

They camped that night in a small cave they found just before sundown. There had been some scant food rations in Boy Ten's pack, and they had kept close to the little stream as they walked, so all in all Cenred felt better about his prospects as the day closed with both food and drink. The anthem showed them that both Morgause and Mordred were still alive out there somewhere, and although Cenred personally wouldn't have minded had the news been the complete opposite, it visibly cheered Morgana's spirits. 

He offered to take the first guard and then, as Morgana accepted, glanced at her knife and found her fingers closing tighter around it. Before she had time to say anything, therefore, he said quickly, 

"You should keep the knife, though. You won it bravely. And if anything should happen to me you'd need your own defence."

She looked at him for some time, calculating, then smiled. "Good thinking," she said, and curled up for sleep. 

Finally, Cenred thought, he might have got somewhere. 

He waited until her breathing had been slow and regular for almost an hour, then stirred slowly. Still no sign from Morgana, and he moved closer to her quietly, every movement slow and careful. Her knife was in her hand, but if he was quick, he should be able to take it and stab her before she had time to wake up. It had been long enough that she should be in deep sleep by now. 

Just as he was reaching out, her eyes snapped open, and her knife hand shot up. He flew backwards, raising his hands. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have startled you. You—" He invented madly. "You were gasping. I wanted to ask if you needed a drink. You lost some blood today; you should be extra careful about dehydration."

She stared at him, then lowered her arm slowly. "That was thoughtful of you," she said icily. 

"Sorry," he repeated. "I'll get back to watching."

"No," she said, "I'm definitely awake now. I'll take over. Get some rest, Cenred. I'll wake you if I need to sleep again." She waited a beat, the added, "Or if I think you're thirsty."

"Thanks. Good," Cenred said lamely, and traded places with her. 

Morgana, he thought as he slipped into uneasy sleep, wasn't _natural_.

* * *

The next morning, they were surprised by a silver parachute that floated straight into Morgana's lap as they were getting ready to make a meal out of the last of Boy Ten's rations. The parachute carried a basket filled with fresh fruit, District One bread and most gloriously of all, half a dozen hard-boiled eggs. It was obviously meant for Morgana, but she shared it with him without even seeming to hesitate. It bothered Cenred. She might have bought his excuse the night before, of course, but the more likely scenario was that she knew what he was doing and was playing a longer game. 

As the time went on, it became clear that this had to be the case. They kept trekking back through the Arena, hoping against hope that they'd somehow manage to meet up with Morgause and Mordred again, and although Morgana behaved perfectly naturally, it was evident that she was always on her guard. Every time Cenred thought he might get the drop on her, she was ready for him. He wondered if she ever truly slept. 

He also wondered why she hadn't yet ended him. She clearly didn't trust him any longer, but she was willing to play the part of friend, still, and they shared all the food they managed to find in remote Gamemaker stashes equally. Maybe she felt she still had some use for him—that sleeping alone would be even more unsafe than sleeping with Cenred as guard. 

If that theory was the correct one, it meant that she reckoned so little of his ability to kill her that she was willing to put up with it for a few hours of barely interrupted sleep. That was a terribly disquieting thought. 

Two more days passed like that. The Arena remained barren and unfriendly, and they saw no other living thing. They must have been transported away with Gamemaker help somehow, to come so far from where they had been separated from the others—they should at least have been back where they started otherwise. 

By the third evening since Boy Ten died, however, they began to find signs that they were coming back to the parts of the Arena they knew. The ground levelled out, small bushes started to claw their way from the earth, and several times, Cenred saw small, fast things scurrying away among the rocks. 

After the anthem that night, they received another sponsor gift. This time, it was a thermos of hot mulled wine. 

Huh, Cenred thought. Maybe that was why he and Morgana hadn't had any Gamemaker threats thrown at them during this long, boring trek. They were hoping for some camera-friendly fondling. He gave Morgana's stony face a thoughtful look and decided that no, that was never going to happen. 

He might as well enjoy the wine while they had it, though.

* * *

The following day, they'd been walking for a few hours when Cenred heard movement up ahead, at the moment hidden behind a shoulder of hillside in front of them. Freezing quickly, he threw an arm out to signal for Morgana to stop. Here it comes, he thought. We clearly aren't interesting enough. Bring on the mutts. 

With one knife between the two of them and Morgana, despite her icy stoicism, still suffering from her injuries, there was no way this was going to end well. All he could hope for was to make a courageous enough display that someone might take pity and send him a last-minute sponsor gift. 

"Something's coming," he hissed, then took a step backward, planting his feet for better purchase. 

He _really_ hoped it wasn't going to be more of those cat mutts. 

The sound came closer, and he realised it sounded more like people than creatures. Another couple of tributes? Depending on who it was, this might go his way after all. 

He readied himself to spring, but then the people came into view. 

Behind him, Morgana gasped. 

" _Morgause_ ," she called and, pushing Cenred aside roughly, ran forward to meet Morgause, who welcomed her with open arms. As the two girls clung to each other, Morgause's face pressed tightly into Morgana's hair, Mordred sidled up to Cenred. 

"That's really sweet," he said slyly. "Why don't you ever hug me like that?"

"Shut your creepy face, brat," Cenred said. "And if you have a spare knife, give it to me. I've felt completely naked for the last couple of days."

"We should fix that," Mordred said solemnly, handing him a short blade. "No one wants to see you naked, after all."

Cenred glared at him, but Mordred was already moving away to hug Morgana.

* * *

After they had taken a meal together, Cenred moved away from the rest of the group to take a short walk on his own. He hadn't had any private time for the last three days, and now with a knife back in his grasp, he finally felt safe enough to relax for a little while. 

He was in trouble, he knew. As soon as he'd seen Morgana and Morgause, he'd known exactly how much trouble. It was them against the world right now, and Cenred didn't fit into that picture. (It was unclear how much Mordred did, for that matter, but that was Mordred's problem to take care of.)

He'd have to leave. He'd take what provisions he could and then he'd strike out on his own. This night would be good—he could take his chance and sneak away when it was his time for guard duty. Maybe he'd even get lucky, and Arthur would come and kill them all in their sleep. 

Yes, because Arthur was still out there, and he would be looking for revenge. That was another thing to keep in mind. Cenred calculated quickly. Besides the four of them and Arthur, there were five other tributes still left alive. Some of them would have allied, probably, but it was unlikely that he'd run into all of them at once. With care and stealth, Cenred could pick them off in turn—playing the lone wolf angle. Yes, it could work. 

As he thought this, a cannon boomed suddenly. Cenred froze, looking back in the direction of his allies. He couldn't see them right now, but he couldn't hear anything, either. If someone had attacked them, he should have heard signs of the ensuing battle. 

Unless Morgana and Morgause had finally done them all a favour and put a knife into Mordred's back, of course. 

He moved back in the direction of the others, and then he heard Morgause laughing, and moments afterwards, Mordred. 

Cenred sat down and leant back against a rock, recalculating. One of the other tributes, then. That left four, plus Arthur. Cenred's plan was increasingly full of merit. The fewer tributes left, the less the alliance was worth, anyway. 

A second cannon shot and then a third recalled him from his thoughts. He rose to his feet again, suddenly uncertain. Was this Arthur? Was he on the war path now? In that case, Cenred might have to move his schedule forward. The alliance was now only a danger—it would just make him easier to find. If the alliance hadn't been found already, that was. He could no longer hear Morgause's laughter. 

Right. In any case, time to go. 

There was a quiet noise behind him. Cenred had time to think that Arthur would be surprised at the speed with which he could turn and attack—none of which he'd given any signs of in their time together—and even to take some pleasure in the thought of subverting his expectations. Then, there was only pain. 

"You should have learned not to turn towards noises by now," Mordred said softly, behind him. "It would have served you better to remain as you were. Well. Not a lot better."

Cenred didn't reply. There was burning pain in his back, and when he tried to move, there was an unpleasant feeling in his insides. He felt frozen in place.

"I don't think the others will even mind that much, you know?" Mordred said. Cenred opened his mouth, but so sound would come.

Mordred laughed quietly. 

"Of course, an alliance has its benefits," he said. "But there comes a time when there's no point in keeping someone like you around. Those cannons just now told me there's only three other players left in the game. It's kind of overkill for our alliance to still be four. We want to give them a chance, after all—it's no fun otherwise. Besides, I've never done this before, and I wanted to try it at least once." He twisted the knife in Cenred's back, and Cenred gasped for air. There seemed to be none left in his lungs. "I'm pretty new at this, but this is a long knife. I think I can reach your heart. In fact, I think I just need to push this in a little further. What do you think?"

Cenred moved his lips soundlessly. There were things he wanted to say—he wanted to protest that this was not the way it was supposed to go, that it was not the way he and Brutus had planned it, that at the very least it should have been Morgause or Arthur, not this little upstart. He wanted to say that all this was a role, not who he was, and now no one would know otherwise. He wanted to say goodbye to Harl. 

Most of all, he wanted to say it wasn't fair. But the words wouldn't come, only something wet and warm that choked him. It tasted coppery and sharp, and he knew that he was, finally, dying. 

Mordred pushed. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of several different companion pieces that RedOrchid and I have planned for this series. The whole Merlin/Hunger Games fusion series is found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/64535).


End file.
